


Stuffed Elephants and Cooking Lessons

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Implied past child neglect, Kid Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony is de-aged by magic, he latches on to Clint. Clint wonders how he became the responsible adult in the Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuffed Elephants and Cooking Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt on the kink-meme: [here from round 22](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/18271.html?thread=42724959#t42724959)
> 
> I missed a large chunk of the plot and the bonuses, but I wanted to play with this side of the de-aged relationship

“Clint. Clint. Clint. Clint. Clint. Cl-“  
Clint reached out without opening his eyes and rested his hand on the top of Tony’s head which served the dual purpose of stopping his bouncing and quieting his increasingly loud chatter. “Tony,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What did I say?”

“But-“

“What did I say?” he asked again. 

“That I shouldn’t bounce on the bed to wake you up but Natasha said it was your turn to make breakfast and she wanted waffles and you weren’t getting up so I should come wake you up and –“

“Breathe, kid,” Clint said, fighting back a smile as he sat up without dislodging the 40-pound kid draped across his lap. “Do you remember _why_ I said you shouldn’t bounce?”

“Because someone could get hurt,” Tony answered with a pout.

“Okay.” He kissed Tony on the forehead, and in response, Tony slumped against him. 

“Sorry,” Tony murmured.

“It’s alright, kid. I just want you to know that there’s a reason when I ask you to do something, okay? Have I lied to you yet?”

“No,” Tony muttered.

“Okay then. Now, Tasha said she wanted waffles?”

Tony nodded, his head in the space between Clint’s neck and chest, but was otherwise incredibly still. It wasn’t the first time they’d run into this reaction with Tony over the past three days of his current tenure as a four-year old. Clint didn’t think Tony’d been physically abused as a kid, but his response to an adult who was potentially angry was classic abused kid behavior (he’d taken a psychology class or two, okay, not to mention his own upbringing).

“Hey,” Clint said gently, running his hands gently up and down Tony’s back. “I’m not mad, Tony. I just need you to be careful. You know how we’ve talked about how it’s a bad idea to sneak up on Bruce and how when Steve’s being quiet, loud noises are a bad idea?”

Tony nodded again.

“Well, that’s the same reason you shouldn’t bounce on me when I’m asleep.” He reached up and removed one of his hearing aids. “See these?” He continued when he saw Tony peek and nod. “They help me hear, and I don’t always wear them to bed.” He had fallen asleep in his hearing aids the night before, which meant he was going to be in a world of hurt later, but he honestly hadn’t meant to; he’d been reading and fallen asleep over his book. “So when you bounce on me, and I can’t hear you, I might hurt you without meaning to.” He’d punched more than one bed partner for that reason.

Tony uncurled slightly, turning his head to look more closely at the hearing aid in Clint’s palm. 

“Okay?” Clint asked, hugging Tony slightly with his free hand.

Tony nodded. “Sorry for bouncing on you.”

“Apology accepted,” Clint said with a grin. “Now, why don’t you run and tell Tasha that I’ll be down in a couple minutes, and see if she’ll set you up with chocolate milk.”

Tony smiled brightly and nodded before scrambling off Clint’s lap.

Clint flopped back down with a sigh. It had been three days since Tony had, with the aid of magic, been transformed into a four year old kid, complete with arc reactor. 

They’d been fighting some magic user Thor had recognized, and she’d gotten a lucky strike in at Tony, which had sent the suit careening into Clint’s rooftop. Once Clint had managed to get the suit off a clearly panicking Tony, he’d been shocked to find not the man he’d expected, but a boy of maybe 5, who had no idea what was going on. He’d latched on to Clint, and had been terrified of everyone else once they’d gotten to the ground.

The kid had been his near constant shadow ever since. A three-foot tall-forty-pound-dark-haired-dark-eyed-never-shut –up-once-he’d-realized-Clint-would-never- _ever_ -do-more-than-ask-him-to-stop-talking shadow.

Clint was fucking exhausted. It was no wonder he’d passed out with his aids still in. He was surprised he’d even made it to bed. 

With another sigh, he pulled himself up, scrubbing his hands over his face and hair. Clint felt woefully unprepared to look after a kid, but even though Tony’d gotten more comfortable with everyone but Steve, he’d still stuck like glue to Clint’s side. The others helped, Bruce in particular doing science with the kid when Clint needed a break, but Tony was staying in Clint’s guest room. 

“Messages, JARVIS?” Clint asked as he pulled himself to his feet, tucking the hearing aid back into place. 

“Agent Sitwell confirms that security plans are in place for your outing today,” JARVIS responded. “He has sent the details to you.”

“Good,” Clint responded, slipping into a pair of well-worn jeans. “Anything else?” he asked before sniffing his tee-shirt and deciding it was okay to wear down to the communal kitchen.

“Nothing of note, sir,” JARVIS responded.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Clint answered, sliding into a pair of fleece-lined house shoes and heading for the elevator. “Who’s up?”

“Everyone is in the kitchen,” the AI responded as the elevator descended to the common level. 

True to his word, everyone was assembled in the kitchen. Tony was perched in a backwards chair, his chin resting on the back as he watched Bruce work over the stove. Natasha and Steve worked at a place on the counter chopping fruit, while Thor watched from the table, a flagon of coffee in his hands. 

“Thought it was my turn?” Clint asked as he stepped in, moving to where the ingredients for waffles had already been assembled near the pair of waffle irons plugged in on the counter.

Bruce shrugged one shoulder while flipping bacon. “Never hurts to have another set of hands.”

“Or three,” Natasha said. “But you’re still in charge of waffles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clint responded with a sloppy salute and a wink at Tony which made the boy giggle. “Come ‘ere, kid. You can help.”

Tony’s eyes went wide, but he slid off the chair and dragged it with him to the edge of the counter, where he scrambled back up to stand on the seat. 

Clint walked him through measuring the dry ingredients while he handled the wet, and then helped Tony ladle the batter into the hot griddle. Tony’s eyes lit up at the first sizzle of batter on the hot pan, and he let Clint guide him through turning the plates over and put him in charge of telling Clint when the light went out, signaling the waffles were done. 

“So, Tony, I had an idea,” Clint said, once they were all seated with full plates. 

Tony looked up, a waffle clutched in his hands as he nibbled at it.

“How would you feel about going to the zoo today?”

Tony’s eyes got even wider.

**  
It was a bit of a production, getting Tony ready and then out of the Tower. They had to cover up the light of the arc reactor, because it made kid!Tony too much of an easy target, even with Clint at his side and a team of agents as backup. 

The trip itself was something of a revelation. It turned out (and made Clint kind of sad), that Tony couldn’t remember having been to the zoo before. Tony dragged Clint from exhibit to exhibit, enthusiastic and eager and looking so god-damned happy to have someone paying attention to him that it broke Clint’s heart a little. He could completely empathize, having spent several years in an orphanage being overlooked by the caretakers, but Clint thought that almost made it worse. Tony had grown up with his parents, and had still been desperate for attention.

By the time they left, stuffed with chicken strips, French fries, cotton candy, slushies, popcorn, and ice cream, Tony was asleep on Clint’s shoulder, his thumb in his mouth and his arm curled tightly around a stuffed elephant.

A junior agent was waiting with a SHIELD car and drove them back to the Tower once Tony was secured in the booster seat that had shown up with a pile of purchases a few hours after it was determined that Tony was going to be a kid for a significant length of time.

“Successful mission?” Bruce asked quietly as he joined them in the elevator, casting a fond look at the toddler.

“I’d say so,” Clint responded just as quietly, not wanting to wake Tony. He hoped that he could get in a nap as well once they made it back to his quarters. “Any news from SHIELD on figuring this out?”

Bruce shook his head. “Thor’s offered to return home and speak to his mother, but with us being two down, Fury wants him to wait.”

“Two down?” Clint asked, lifting Tony just a bit higher on his hip.

“You’ve been taken off the duty roster,” Bruce said. “Since Tony’s pretty much attached himself to you, you’ve been appointed his guardian. They didn’t tell you?” he asked at Clint’s look.

“No, but I’m not surprised,” he said with a sigh. The elevator stopped at his floor. “If you hear anything, let me know?”

“Absolutely,” Bruce said.

Not wanting Tony to freak out when he woke up somewhere different from where he fell asleep, Clint laid him down in his own bed before slipping out his hearing aids and stretching out beside him, falling almost instantly asleep.

**

The trip to the zoo seemed to have cemented Tony’s hero worship of Clint. The kid followed him _everywhere_ , his stuffed elephant usually in tow. 

When Clint was on the range practicing, Tony could be found in the twin-bed sized box outlined in glow-in-the-dark tape against a far wall, alternately watching Clint in fascination and playing with a variety of construction type toys (Clint had to admit that full sets of Legos were just as awesome as he’d imagined as a kid). Tony had a fondness for Knex, and built himself a miniature circus, complete with rides and a midway.

Which he then cheerfully destroyed with his stuffed elephant a la Godzilla.

When Clint and Natasha sparred, Tony would sit on the bleacher seating, acting as Clint’s cheerleader. As Clint shifted his workout to free weights, Tony let himself be coaxed onto the mats to have tumbling lessons from Natasha, then worked with Clint on the trampoline, childlike laughter filling the gym while Thor and Steve looked on from where they did their own workouts. During their cool down, Tony would join them on the mats and work through the yoga forms with them.

Adult Tony didn’t show much ability or interest in cooking, but four-year-old Tony seemed fascinated by the process, especially when Clint or Bruce made an effort to include him in some part of the meal preparation. They discovered Tony’s favorite foods were macaroni and cheese (not surprising) and tempura vegetables (Clint supposed he couldn’t really blame him; fried things were awesome).

Clint may have been removed from the active duty roster, but that didn’t mean he was on vacation. He still had reports to review, mostly intelligence briefings (he wasn’t an analyst by any means, but he often caught things they missed) and the occasional mission report. While he was working (at the desk. In the office. In one of the spare rooms in his suite), Tony would curl up in a patch of floor with his own books, ranging from coloring books to textbooks to novels, often falling asleep over his work, his thumb finding its way into his mouth and his stuffed elephant within reach. Clint would drape a blanket over him and get back to work until Tony stirred, upon which it was snack and play time. He could always finish his work after Tony went to bed at night.

And then, two weeks after Tony had been kiddified, the Avengers were called into action. 

Off the active duty roster, all Clint could do was sit in the common room with Tony and watch the various media outlets covering the battle via JARVIS compiling and showing them on split screens.

“Clint.”

“Yeah, buddy?” Clint asked, tearing his gaze away from the screen where he’d been watching Natasha just barely dodge a strike from what looked like a horrible cross-breed between an octopus and a snapping turtle with missiles strapped to its shell and pincers on the end of some of its legs. Tony was snugged up against Clint, his stuffed elephant clutched in his arms.

“You’re squishing me.”

“Sorry,” Clint said, easing up his grip around Tony’s waist. In response, Tony just snuggled closer, resting his head against Clint’s chest. It occurred to Clint that he should maybe take Tony away from the battle on the television, but at the same time, Tony had come to know the others and he’d been just as worried when the call to assemble had sounded as Clint had been.

“Agent Barton,” JARVIS spoke. “Incoming message from Agent Sitwell.”

“Tony,” Clint said, shifting the boy off his lap. “I need to talk to Agent Sitwell in private. Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

Tony nodded, hugging his plush toy closer, still watching the muted feed on the television screen.

Clint ran his hand over Tony’s hair and slipped out from behind him, scooping his phone up from where it had been waiting by his thigh on the couch cushion. He ducked into the kitchen, thankful that Adult!Tony had been obsessive about putting JARVIS interfaces in nearly every room. “JARVIS?”

A part of the wall lit up. Sitwell was in the tactical van, a couple of junior agents behind him working on terminals. “Sitwell?” Clint asked.

“Barton. Thor says this is the same guy from a couple weeks ago,” Sitwell said without preamble. “Thor’s engaged in negotiation to at least get Tony back, though we’re hoping we can also get him to get the attack called off,” he said dryly, his dark eyes glittering. 

A roar carried over the comm feed, and the junior agents jumped. Apparently Hulk was having a good time smashing away.  
“Thanks, Sitwell,” Clint said, honestly. He’d be relieved to get Tony back no matter what, but it was a relief to have a little bit of a heads up. 

“Sure thing,” Sitwell said. “Sitwell ou-wait one,” he said. 

Clint watched as Sitwell’s attention shifted, most likely to his in-ear comm which would be tuned in to the frequency the team was using. He peeked around the corner, to find Tony still perched on the couch, elephant in arms, thumb in mouth while he watched the footage.

“Barton.” Sitwell’s voice called him back. “The attack is being called off. We can’t meet her demands, but Thor assures me that Asgard can. He’s escorting her, and once she’s satisfied, Tony will be restored.”

While the US Government may have had a policy of not negotiating with terrorists, SHIELD had no such restrictions, especially once the threats they faced started becoming more and more of the extra-terrestrial variety. It had been Fury’s policy to do what he could, even if it wasn’t always the politically popular choice (see: WSC trying to nuke Manhattan).

“Understood,” Clint responded. “ETA on mop-up?”

Sitwell tilted his head back and forth, thinking. “Two hours,” he said.

“Got it. Thanks.”

Sitwell nodded. “Out.” The screen went blank. 

“They’re gone!” Tony exclaimed as Clint stepped back into the room, as the footage on screen swam dizzyingly around trying to capture the suddenly empty streets.

“Yup. Thor got her to stop,” Clint said. “Hey,” he said as he flopped down next to Tony, suddenly having a tug-o-war of emotions. He had gotten used to having the kid around, but they needed their Tony back so they could be an effective team. Clint really wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “They’ll be back later. Want to help me make cookies and dinner?”

“Yes!” Tony chirped happily. He followed Clint back into the kitchen, the plush elephant as always, in tow.

Tony chattered away while they worked, helping Clint to measure out the nuts and chocolate chips while standing on one of the kitchen chairs. He seemed happy, Clint thought. He’d stopped flinching when anyone raised their voice, and he’d even gotten comfortable around Steve (though Clint had figured that at his current age, Tony wasn’t as jaded about his father’s fixation on finding the fallen Captain America as he’d become as a teen and young adult). Clint had no idea if Tony would remember any of this when he was returned to his adult state, but he hoped maybe that they’d managed to give him some better childhood memories. 

“Clint!”

He looked down at the tug on his sleeve. “Yeah, buddy?”

“Can I lick the spoon?” he asked, his dark eyes twinkling. Natasha had introduced him to the pleasures of raw cookie dough one movie night. 

“Sure,” Clint responded, ruffling his hair before unhooking the beater from the mixer for Tony to lick, and then pulling down a plate to rest the beater on so Tony could help him roll the cookies into balls for baking. 

Once they had all the cookies on the sheet pans, Clint helped Tony wash up, and then sat him at the table while Clint started on dinner for when the rest of the team returned. He was working on dicing some vegetables when he heard a pained sound from Tony and he spun on his heel. “Tony wha-?”

Tony, bathed in a hot-pink light, floated a few inches above the floor. “Clint?” His voice trembled, and his arms were flung out, as if trying to find purchase on something. “What’s happening? It hurts!”

“I think you’re getting turned back into an adult, Tony,” Clint said honestly, approaching, but also standing far enough back that the light didn’t touch him. “Just hang tight, okay? It probably won’t last long.”

Tony nodded, though his bit his lip and pulled on a brave face.

Clint watched in fascination as Tony aged before his eyes in a matter of moments. The surrounding him blinked out and Clint rushed forward to catch Tony before he hit the floor. He was unconscious but breathing, and his pulse seemed steady enough.

“Call coming through from Agent Sitwell, Agent Barton,” JARVIS said.

“Did it work?” Sitwell asked without pre-amble.

“Yup. Better send up a medical team,” Clint responded. “He’s breathing but unconscious.”

“Got it. Out.” Sitwell cut the call, probably dealing with three other crises at the same time.

Three hours later, medical wanted to keep Tony under observation for the night, and Clint stumbled back to the tower and his room. He took out his hearing aids and collapsed onto his bed, ignoring the piles of toys scattered around his living area.

**  
It was late the next morning when Clint stumbled from his bedroom in search of coffee. He jumped when arms wrapped around him in a crushing hug until his brain caught up with his nose and eyes and realized it was recently-re-adultified-Tony who was clinging to him like a limpet. He could feel the vibration against his chest that meant Tony was talking, but Clint barely heard a buzz; he hadn’t bothered putting his hearing aids in for the short walk to the kitchen.

“Tony,” Clint said, tugging the dark haired man away slightly so he could see his face. “Tony!” He tried to interrupt as he gave the other man a gentle shake.

That seemed to get Tony’s attention. “I can’t hear you,” Clint said, hoping his voice wasn’t too loud or his words too slurred like they could get when he couldn’t hear himself speak. “Go make some coffee and I’ll get my hearing aids.”

Tony nodded and stepped away, and Clint turned back to the bedroom. When he returned to the kitchen, Tony held out Clint’s favorite purple mug, and he took a sip after accepting the cup, finding it to be just the way he liked it. “You were saying?” he asked as he slid onto a stool at the counter, nodding in thanks.

Tony fidgeted with a spoon. “Oh. Just. Thanks,” he said. “You let me be a kid, and follow you around, and you taught me things, and just…thanks. For that.”

Clint nodded again. “You’re welcome.”

“We never have to speak of this again, right?” Tony asked, a bit of desperation creeping into his tone.

Clint shrugged. “If you want.”

“Yeah. Never again,” Tony said. “I’m gonna go build something now,” he said almost absently and turned to leave. 

“Hey Tony?” Clint called after him.

Tony paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Wanna help me make dinner tonight?”

One side of Tony’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr: [here @ knitwritezombie](http://knitwritezombie.tumblr.com)


End file.
